Medaljon
by DeathShamu
Summary: Lukas is moving to Denmark. Sure, it's nerve wracking to him. But that means that he'll finally get to go to school- specifically a magic school for his gift. Things start off to be ideal and perfect, and Lukas meets Mathias, his best friend, but soon he realizes that not everything is going to stay perfect for long.
1. Prolougue

It was downright repulsive.

Lukas invariably mulled over when he'd be able to vacate the neighborhood.

What with the children grimy, unenlightened, radiating with dispiriting frustration and hopelessness, the guttersnipes and impecunious beggars down the block, clad in rags or mucky leather, gloved hands reaching out for oncoming pedestrians for any slight token of gratitude or for money. Lukas would watch their jerky vision come to complete focus on him whenever he'd take his daily walk by, trying his best to calm, they'd begin yelling at him, their speech was noticeably slurred almost every time, even in the mornings, which dumbfounded him. Lukas would continuously pay no heed to their laments; his mother had taught him what they desired the money for, anyways, and he perceived that they couldn't have made it any less obvious. Walking down the block every morning, Lukas was tormented by all of them, he would take steady breaths into the fabric of his scarf and try to get by another. Another. And another, until he was vulnerably sprinting down the block, their curses and screams muffled by his mittened hands pressing against his ears and he ran, making every effort to persist in bravery until he was out of sight, the voices had faded, and he would continue on. They'd never let him forget the time he'd been bolting down the street while they threw shit at him from empty cans to handfuls of dirt, and his toe had ripped straight through the front of his suede shoe and he'd gone flying straight onto the ground, the hard road tearing through his pants and dirtying and scraping the soft skin and flesh of his knees. All Lukas could recall was the howling laughter echoing around him, the stinging in his palms and knees, he'd looked down at them and noticed traces of blood beginning to seep through the raw cuts and felt foolish for crying. Couldn't there had been another way to get around? No. Lukas indubitably wasn't courageous or rugged enough to tread through the woods around the lengthy array of houses that lined the road every morning, the idea seemed so unreasonable that it didn't even strike him anymore. His mother never went with him, either, she was always busy working.

He lived in a dead end on the destitute end of town, high quality clothing or satisfactory food was a fluke to the point where it seemed like a dream. Although the possibility of moving had been up in the air for the longest time, but it was a recent topic in his household once again, which was reassuring, but nerve-wracking to the whole family. Lukas lived with his mother, grandmother, and his smaller brother, Emil, who was six. Just the idea of the price would make Lukas's mother break down from stress. She was desperate, however mostly worried for Emil and Lukas, and she would constantly stroke Lukas's platinum hair late at night, gaping into his deep violet eyes, sometimes she'd be completely lost in them while Lukas stared back up at her, he could always envision the moonlight illuminating onto her soft, endearing expression that always made him feel safe and at home. She would apologize. She would apologize over and over, apologize to Lukas for having to grow up in such vile and formidable conditions. But Lukas would always shift his glance out the window, up to the sky, gazing at the way the stars dotted the darkness like art, not wanting to listen, not wanting to be evoked. But Lukas's mother always took the hint when he'd shift to his side and cover his head with a pillow, quivering or clawing at his ears, silently willing for the words that went right in one ear and out the other to come to an end. Then she'd carry him to bed.

But Lukas kept his aspirations for the future sky high, for he knew he was born with a gift very few people had. It wasn't to his comfort to explain to strangers because they'd all think he was trying to spread rumors because he was air-headed and uneducated. They'd never suspect that a undersized, rawboned and wretched boy to possibly possess powers as dominate and scarce as magic. Lukas was thoroughly breathtaking at it- especially for his young age of only nine years old. He would practice almost every day with the older kids from down the block- most of which didn't even have magic, but the ones who did had it passed down to them by grandparents or great grandparents when they were a tad older than him, but Lukas had been born with it. However, Lukas's mother enjoyed him having older friends. She savvied that they'd be capable of educating him much better than anyone his age possibly could, teach him life lessons, and care for him unconditionally; like older siblings. Which they did, Lukas always felt indestructible protection when he was with them. Only two out of all five of his friends actually held the ability to use magic- Arthur and Vladimir.

Arthur was a bit of a egocentric, tactless lad, although Lukas did look up to him a lot. Lukas was devoted and loyal to making sure his friends felt as buoyant as they could be at all times- especially Arthur, for he was high-strung and snippy often. Vladimir was exceedingly reckless and irresponsible all of the time, but Lukas thought he was so, so, great. He'd get chills whenever Vladimir would shoot him a toothy grin, exposing his fangs- as the others called them, and his burgundy, purely enthralling eyes, would get all squinty and the pure bliss in his face whenever he smiled always made Lukas feel reassured and sanguine. As well as them, there was the sisters, Katyusha and Natalya, along with Xiao-Mei. They'd always come along and sit with Lukas, usually he'd be pulled into Xiao's lap, and they'd help him memorize spells and study, whether it was with flashcards or initials, which Katyusha came up with, or sometimes Xiao would pull out a pen and scribble it across Lukas's palm so he could read it to himself whenever, until it came off. Natalya was always reluctant to come, and never really spoke. She was always dragged along by her sister and she'd always get super defensive every time someone tried to verbally communicate with her. But, it was these friends who kept Lukas's head in the clouds and feet on the ground, and he surely wouldn't change a single thing about them, not for the world.

But when Lukas kicked off his shoes after a long day of laughter and studies, he looked into the kitchen at his mother's face and was immediately struck with the fact that that everything was going to change.

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Feedback is fantastic ! :') Also, not too sure if the description is permanent, so.


	2. Chapter 1

Lukas's heart was in his throat. He dropped his rucksack, sending thick spiral bound notebooks, fat leather spell books, pencils with chewed up ferrules, candy wrappers, and folded up or ripped index cards and so forth gliding across the rickety wooden floor while his eyelids brimmed with tears and he rapidly galumphed forward to throw his newly empty arms around his mother. She dropped a box of various knick knacks wrapped tightly in bubble wrap and paper to the floor to sweep Lukas off of his feet and spin him around gaily while his feet occasionally brushed the floor and he nuzzled his face into her chest, wetting her blouse with his teary eyes and snotty nose. Lukas's chest felt ineffably heavy and he was struggling to take in air as his nose was pressed to his mother's clothes so abruptly and his nose was clogged with mucus, all he could do was choke on air and silently beg his mother to release him.

"No," was all Lukas could possibly utter, swinging his leg across the floor and freeing himself from his mother's grip, the slack stained birch wood on the floor splitting and creaking under his weight and he slipped and stepped back, eyeing his mother with sadness. He didn't have to conduct any form of communication to know. They were moving.

Lukas had always basked in the idea of moving, he'd be fulfilling everyday tasks and daydreaming about it, somewhere better, somewhere free of grubby alcoholics roaming the streets, carefree and giving off foul odors, and random gangs of children putting him in a chokehold whenever he'd try to go shopping and laugh at him. Broken, abandoned houses that no one would even _think_ about moving into. But now, that it was so real, so close... Lukas was panic-stricken, what was going to happen to his friends? How far exactly did they even have to move? Was it just to the other end of town, or would they have to move as far as a different country? Lukas's mind was spinning and bombarding him with all different sorts of tearjerking questions. He tried to swallow the knot forming in his throat, inhaling choppy breaths, while his mother bent down in front of him, and slid a caring hand up the fabric of his shirt and clamped his shoulder. Lukas knelt on the floor, watching the tears he'd wiped slide down the soft flesh of his hands and glisten in the light. She slid her hand up and down his back, attempting to calm the quivering child, shushing him and resting her cheek on the top of his head.

"I thought you'd be more excited, honey... I'm sorry," she whispered.

That was it. Just his mother's voice, so soft, elegant, so doting, so dulcet, that Lukas began to claw at his cheeks and every moment he's ever had in his home seemed to shape up his mind and hit him like a freight train. Grieving over the giddy feeling his friends had put him in that so quickly subsided, Lukas wiped away the sopping locks of ash blonde hair that had stuck to his flushed, hot cheeks from tears.

"Where...?" Lukas's voice quavered, and he felt vapid. His mind couldn't even propose words, it was too busy wallowing in the thoughts of everything he'd have to say goodbye to and leave behind.

"A small village in Denmark. I think you're gonna love it, baby, I promise. Okay?" Her mauve eyes, bare of makeup with dark bags arched around them fluttered upwards to the ceiling then fell to Lukas's feet, and she observed his socked big toe wriggling out of the hole in his left brown suede shoe. She observed the way the fabric at the end had ripped open and frayed, and the front of the shoe was busted and seemingly ripping apart even more as Lukas moved his toe. His silence was reassuring, yet puzzling, and she began to query herself if Lukas was alright, and took a slow breath to speak once more before Lukas's throat grumbled and he burst into disheartening wails and sobs. Yes, yes the numerous amount of ramshackle buildings, from shops to houses to sheds wasn't exactly an impeccable place to call home, but when Lukas reflected on all of the memories he'd had in those run-down buildings, whether it was trapping squirrels with Emil in the backyard and poking them with stray sticks until they finally had some mercy and released them, or swinging hatchets into walls of overrun sheds with Vladimir and ducking when the walls would sputter and send chunks flying everywhere, Lukas had always felt perfectly at home and wouldn't change it for the world. This was where he was born and raised, experienced his father's death after he'd drank himself to death... Lukas swallowed hard and tried to counter the sick feeling rumbling in the back of his throat, remembering the scene of the incident and his father's fleeting life, every single little detail of it that had never ever left his mind since the moment it happened. He couldn't forget. He sobbed gently into his knees, pulling them closer to his chest that felt heavy and pressing his sticky nose to the fabric of his jeans, letting a thin layer of mucus and tears coat the pants.

"It's okay, honey. Everything's gonna be okay, I promise. Do you trust me?"

Lukas watched his cream colored hands fall into his lap, vision blurred by the tears welling in his newly red, stingy eyes. His mother ran her hands through his hair, the clip securing his ash blonde locks flashing due to variations of exposure to light as his mother's soft, delicate fingers occasionally brushed over it. Lukas wanted to yell or scream, cry or kick lividly around like he had when he was a baby and would get tantrums... run away, even? There was that. Lukas contemplated all of his options over in his head, new ones kept popping up which he'd reconsider for a short time before thinking of a new one, and right before he was about to get up and scream, run, wave his arms and cry, all he could possibly manage was a sheepish nod, and wiped his white eyelashes clean of tears. His anxiety was great within him, and he wanted to get up, run to the bathroom, and throw up.

"Good." She hummed, before Lukas threw his arms in front of him, began to scramble to his feet and press his hand to his lips. "And guess what?"

Lukas stopped in his tracks and gurgled softly. "What?" He whispered hoarsely, trying to counter the bile forming in the back of his throat.

"You're going to go to school, Lukas. We leave Wednesday, okay?" She beamed, smiling toothily before Lukas gasped so hard that he threw up.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Lukas trembled in the solacing warmth of his bedsheets, eyes scanning the room, that was now empty after his mother had helped clean it out all day long. Although, his room wasn't big nor was it much to look at- a long in the tooth, broken-down staircase led up to it, and it was surrounded by only three walls, one at an angle over his bed with a skylight attached, letting the moonlight illuminate down onto his tranquil sleeping figure each night, the second right behind his headboard, and the third about ten feet across from it. Plus a closet, and the whole room was made of stained and worn wood that would creak especially loud whenever Lukas placed his feet to the or leaned against the wall- although the stairs were indubitably the worst. Where the fourth wall should have been was purely empty space, setting aside the stairs. But Lukas was fond of it, and it was the only room in the house separated from the first floor, which he enjoyed. He savored every moment of being alone, especially since he had a little brother, Emil, that would regularly try to get Lukas to "play with him." His brother didn't resemble him very much, but he was about as lanky as Lukas, but had lighter hair and the same eye color. Their skin tone was about the same, nearly as white as paper- but their facial features differed very much. Lukas's nose was sharp, Emil's was soft. Lukas's eyes were rounder, and he'd always been known for having irregularly large pupils and prepossessingly rosy cheeks. Emil was always pale and looked sick almost unconditionally, and his eyes had sharper edges. Their cheeks differed very much, too. Emil's were round. Lukas's were not, and his jawline was sharp and had a very attractive shape to it. No one ever asked if they were twins, like Lukas's mother would have always been asked when she was in public with his aunt, who was two years older than her. But Lukas didn't think they looked alike at all.

It was when they were cleaning out his room was when his mother had told him that the move had been on for over a month, but was supposed to be kept a surprise until Tuesday, and she hadn't expected Lukas to arrive home so early yesterday. But, Xiao had been sick, and it just wasn't as lively without her at all, so everyone had gone home much earlier. However, the secret infuriated Lukas, he couldn't make sense of why she's kept it from him, she claimed she thought he'd be excited, and the only thing that Lukas could ever find "exciting" about the move was his opportunity to attend an actual school for his magic. Or, at least he was at first. Over time, Lukas realized that he actually preferred the "school" he currently resided in with his closest friends a lot more- he learned many street smarts from them, I and Lukas's grandmother would continuously remind him how mature and perceptive he was for such a young age and how much of a "gentleman" he'd become by the time he was older. His grandmother always said that street smarts would get you farther than book smarts ever would, but Lukas was never completely sure of that. He couldn't even perform basic math, and the kids down the road by the shop Lukas would buy a loaf of break at every week would always hasten toward him as soon as he came into sight and continue to bombard him with simple multiplication questions that would make Lukas bilious- and there was one single time he'd begun cry. Just one, however. Which was infrequent for Lukas, as he cried very, very often. It was usually when he was embarrassed or in pain, though, and he was never known to cry when he was sad or angry, like a common child typically would.

But, being the child he was, Lukas... Quite frequently felt embarrassed or flustered, and the slightest thing would set him off. Being asked how he was doing, what his name was, if someone asked him where he got his shoes Lukas would probably take a raspy breath that transitioned directly into hoarse, silent crying without Lukas even trying to hold it back at the slightest. And he blushed. He blushed so much, and it would all happen so fast. Lukas cringed whenever he reflected back on the time he'd

* * *

tripped over his foolishly untied shoelace, and he flew forward and tried to clutch the fabric of Xiao's skirt for support and it slipped right down her thighs and a high pitched scream slipped from both of their lips. Lukas had impacted into the ground and his cheeks grew completely red and warm in a matter of 3 seconds, then Vladimir had teased him about it for months. He still joked about Lukas having a crush on Xiao- which he didn't. He was undoubtedly positive about that. He loved Xiao, but it was in more of a sisterly way rather than romantic. She was far too old, anyways. And, Lukas didn't even understand all of the buzz about "relationships" with girls, the idea never even appealed to him, but he thought it was because he was young, and didn't have to worry about finding love until he was older. But the seemingly most puzzling part about it to Lukas was the "girl" part. And he never took pleasure in discussing it beyond that. Not that he ever had the chance to, he would never dare tell anyone, not even his mother or his grandma.

Lukas rolled over in his bed and rubbed his temples, before quickly drifting off into a light sleep.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

"Hey, when are those people moving in?"

"What people?"

"Into that house, right there. That old woman's old house with the little brown dog that bit Alfred once, remember? The one that died."

"Oh, right. Alice. Should be this week or the next, actually."

"Really? Her name was Alice?"

"The dog's was."

"Oh."

"That house is old as much as it is ugly. Which is a lot of ugly. Not sure why anyone would want it."

"I wonder who's gonna move in there. Maybe some cute girls."

"Or, for your sake, a cute boy."

"Would you stop that?"

"I could."

"And you should."

"Mathias, your homosexuality isn't as undisclosed as you think, ya know."

"Shut up, Ned." Eleven-year-old Mathias flung his nose to the sky, shoving his hands into his pockets and bouncing his knee on the pavement outside the house. "I love boys just as much as I love your shit jazz music."

"Hey, don't diss jazz, faggot."

"Dude, don't say that."

"You're defending yourself because you're gay." Ned, who was fourteen, chuckled softly before picking up a rock and chucking it at the house. It smacked into the walls, which spat small chunks of wood across the yard and a creaks and cracking noises followed.

"Ned, what the fuck?" Mathias scrambled to his feet and began tugging his sleeve. "Stop, dumbass. Come on, this way. Alfred and Vash are meeting us over there." Ned huffed and both boys began sauntering along the sidewalk over to the where the woods met the road.

"Where are they?" The taller boy grunted and ran his front teeth along his bottom lip.

Mathias looked around, shrugging before letting his shoulders sag and his toes wriggle inside his shoes. He pondered how much time it had been since he had left his house, and then settled on the fact that it had probably been about twenty minutes, so it had to have been about one thirty.

"Should be here about..." Mathias was interrupted by the noise of rustling in the dead, dried out plants of the woods coming from several yards in front of them. Two boys with blonde hair and large BB Guns came into sight behind a thick oak tree and they waved to the two boys on the sidewalk before continuing forward.

"Al? Vash! What the hell, man? You didn't tell us to bring our guns," Ned yelled, a bit too loud for Mathias's comfort as he glanced around for any nearby adults and slipped his thumbs into his belt loops. Ned adjusted his scarf around his neck and began to take a step forward.

"I did too, you moron. If you payed attention to a single goddamn thing I ever said then you probably would have fucking known," Vash hissed back at him, jumping over a thick tree root that Alfred tripped over shortly after with a high pitched wail. Al reached forward to grab his glasses before Vash could try and step on them- which he always did.

"Al, you titface. Get the fuck up. Ouch!"

Mathias giggled into his hand before being smacked on the back of the head by Ned's hand, who glared at him.

"Even your laugh is queer."

Mathias turned away and began to dawdle down the edge of the road, away from Ned and his comments. He slowly converted his gaze back toward the house, his eyes boring into the rickety walls and began to pray that maybe someone kind and giddy would move in there, someone that'd be his friend. A friend that wouldn't curse him out or judge him when he did simple content things like sneeze or eat. But Mathias could understand why he was always laughed at for sneezing- it was really high pitched. But he ate like a normal person. Or so he thought.

Vash reached the end of the woods with Alfred struggling in a bush close behind him. He threw himself against Ned's chest when Mathias realized he wasn't wearing shoes. Just two pairs of socks with a shoe sole duct-taped to each foot.

"I hope wittle Neddy will find it in his heart to forgive me," Vash swooned, puckering up his face and standing on his toes to- almost- meet Ned's height, before he was shoved to the ground recklessly.

"Why are all of my friends so goddamn gay?" Ned groaned, trying to counter the blood rising in his cheeks.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay," Alfred, who was wearing shoes, argued while hopping over a branch and onto the road with the rest of the gang.

"Stop standing up for your kind, you carcinogenic fetus." Ned scoffed, and began walking down the road towards a lake at the end of the road. The empty, long, dull road stretched out in front of him, there never seemed to be anyone around anymore. The other boys followed timidly behind him, dragging their feet and occasionally sighing- no one really dared to speak. All of them just occasionally exchanged glances but never exchanged words, there wasn't really anything to say, which didn't surprise Mathias. It always happened. He wondered why he ever dealt with them or hung around with them. He was always in denial that he had no true friends, and he always tried to stick around them almost to show off or just to have their presence help him keep his head up. All he really wanted them around for was company. He never got it. Especially not from his parents. They were his world- but he hated them. And it confused him greatly. The only one he actually felt emotionally connected to was Alfred.

With that knowledge, he slowly began inching closer to Alfred as he walked until they were inches apart and Alfred looked down at him. He didn't say anything.

And that brought another insecurity to mind. He was so much smaller than the rest of them. Mathias was eleven. The rest of his friends ranged from twelve to fourteen and one half- with Ned being the oldest. And the tallest. So, they were always looking down at him, which always made Mathias feel helpless and teeny and the rest of his self confidence seemed to immediately subside as he clutched his suspenders and leaned his head against Alfred's shoulder, who shifted uncomfortably before Mathias's head shot up and he shuffled away from him, embarrassed. In the midst of his thoughts, Mathias didn't realize that everyone has stopped and they'd reached the lake. Alfred and Vash picked up their guns and began running down the shore and laughing, shooting into the water and at each other's feet.

The sand and dirt shot up into the air along with a few pebbles, sending Alfred flying back and wheezing with laughter. Vash spun around and acted as if he was about to shoot Ned, who jolted and threw his arms in front of him before scampering across the shore to put Vash in a chokehold in attempt to grab his gun. Vash resisted, choking on air and smacking Ned's back before being released swiftly back into the sand.

Mathias just watched, sitting contently on a large rock, covered in green-brown moss and slippery from the humidity of the weather.

And all he could think about was the vacant house down the road.

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You guys should tooootally criticize me. (No, really, please leave criticism I'm trying to improve hAHA) But sorry for this crappy chapter, it was really rushed and I just haven't been in a writing mood lately. Hopefully you guys'll see better chapters from me in the future. Also, sorry for any spelling errors !


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